Taste o' Coal
by Blithe Novelties
Summary: "He was wrong," Lovino muttered, watching the other's chest rise up and down as he slept. "The rich are rich...the poor are paid with coal." Historical Human AU. Based off of the Mingo County Mine Wars of 1920-1921


**AN: This is set in Mingo County, West Virginia, USA, at the time that would later become known as The Mingo County Mine Wars of 1920-1921; the story itself was inspired by the book of poetry based on the time period, "Kettle Bottom," by Diane Gillam Fisher, whom I had the pleasure of meeting last year.**

**Additional Information:**

**"Nonno" is "Grandfather"/"Grandpa" in Italian.**

**Scrip is the form of payment the miners were given instead of US currency, and it could only be used at the company store. As each company store had its scrip, you could only use your scrip at your company store.**

**The reason why it is focused on Lovino and Feliciano is because of the influx of immigrants-there was said to be good wages and housing was to be inexpensive, luring many to the area.**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Kettle Bottom and its poems belong to Ms. Fisher.**

APH: Taste o' Coal:

_"To the mountain, we are all the same" _

-Samson, from "Kettle Bottom", by Diane Gillam Fisher

There came a knock at the door of the small, run-down house, sending Feliciano into near panic; words rapidly streaming out of his mouth in a mixture of Italian and broken English to the point where they sounded more like the garbled speech of an infant than a fourteen year old boy.

Lovino, his older brother by three years strode into the room, glaring at the boy, "Feliciano, _why_ are you not letting them in?" Without waiting for an answer, he made his way over to the door, and pulled it open, only to reveal a man he didn't know, but realized was from the coal company.

"Yes?" In the background, the younger Italian's ramblings had turned to soft whimperings of, "Nonno, nonno, nonno..."; Lovino ignored him, brushing off his brother's fears as foolishness, even though he, himself was beginning to grow unnerved...their grandfather should have been back hours ago. "What is it that you want?"

"You are Lovino and Feliciano Vargas, yes?"

"...Yes."

"We are sorry to inform you, but your grandfather has been indentified as among those trapped when the mine collapsed early this morning...there were no survivors." The way it was spoken would make any listener realize that by the man's indifferent tone, he simply didn't care who died, how they died, or who they left behind...only if he could gain profit from them before they left the earthly plane.

Stunned, the seventeen year old stared at the company worker, unable to gather his thoughts well enough to be able to respond. After a few moments of silence, the only thing he could think of to say was, "Ah...yes, thank you...for telling us..."

The other bobbed his head before turning on his heel and walking out, shutting the door behind him.

Neither of the two brothers said anything, neither were able to think of anything that they _could_ say; their grandfather, their caretaker, the last of their family besides each other was gone.

For the rest of the night, they sat together, eyes glassed over, too numb to think or even feel, saying nothing...doing nothing except holding tight to the other as if their life depended on it.

Their grandfather was gone, and there wasn't a thing they could do about it.

**XxX**

_"Boys, we are going to America, where the streets are paved with gold and even the poorest man can make his dream a reality!"_

The memory of the day their grandfather announced those fateful words rang overwhelmingly clear in Lovino's mind: Feliciano had chattered gleefully about what fun America would be-their grandfather encouraging him-while Lovino simply stared at the two in distaste. To him, the stories were to good to be true, and his doubts were proved right.

No sooner had the family stepped off of the train than was Grandpa Vargas handed a shovel. Despite his protests, he was forced to take it; his questions unanswered by those who did not share his native tongue.

From that moment, he was made to work in the dangerous coal mines. The only thing he refused was to let the company make his grandsons in the mine. "They take me, or we will leave," he'd declared nearly every night while they ate their meager suppers. "I can find a better job...this is America, where even the poor are rich."

"He was wrong," Lovino muttered, watching the other's chest rise up and down as he slept. "The rich are rich...the poor are paid with coal."

He brushed Feliciano's hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear; a lump forming in his throat when he thought about what would happen to him when they were evicted-no miner lived in the house now that Grandpa was gone...and without an income of scrip, there was no way to pay for food, for clothes, for their house. The coal companies controlled everything.

_There's only one way that we can stay..._ With one look at his brother's face, sleep giving it more innocence than it had, even while awake, Lovino made his choice. Their grandfather, had he been alive wouldn't have liked it, but he had to take care of Feliciano somehow.

He could already taste the coal.


End file.
